The Shawn Who Cried Wolf
by Kkarrie
Summary: Leave it to Lassiter to actually investigate one of Shawn's wild goose chases. Although, this goose doesn't seem to wild after all. NOT SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Lassiter gave a contented sigh as he sat down at his desk Friday afternoon. It had been the perfect day. O'Hara was out of town for a training seminar which meant that Lassiter had enjoyed not one, but two whole days Spencer free. He had no idea what the supposed psychic and his best friend were up to, but he didn't care as long as they didn't bother him.

He inhaled the sweet scent of the three creams and four sugars in his coffee and relished the silence that the lack of Spencer gave the station. Sure there were still phones ringing, drunks yelling and papers being shuffled, but Lassiter thought of those as white noise compared to the wild flailings of Spencer.

He twirled a pen around in his hand as he flipped through the case report in front of him. There had been a rash of break ins in an upscale part of town and the mayor was anxious to get them solved. Lassiter frowned, this normally wouldn't be something that a head detective would work on, except the mayor was wanting them solved.

"Detective Lassiter," Chief Vick walked by, stopping at his desk.

"Yes, chief?" Lassiter raised an eyebrow.

"With the pressure from the mayor, I'm going to be calling Guster and Spencer in to help you with those robberies."

"Chief!" Lassiter protested, "I have everything under control."

"The mayor wants this solved before his house is broken into next." Karen crossed her arms.

"Give me til the end of the day," Lassiter pleaded. "I'll find something."

The chief gave a deep, long suffering sigh and then finally nodded. "You have the rest of the day. McNab can work with you if you need him."

Lassiter nodded and the chief headed back to her office. If she thought he needed McNab to babysit him on patrol, then she was dead wrong, Lassiter grumbled to himself as he checked his glock. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

Shawn Spencer was not psychic, Lassiter knew that much, but when the head detective's cell phone rang the minute he turned his key in the ignition a flicker of doubt passed through Lassiter's mind.

"What?" Lassiter snapped into the phone.

"Hey, Lassifrass," Spencer's voice was casual, almost too casual for Lassiter's liking.

"Spencer, make it fast, I have a case to solve."

"Well, you know, I'm sure you'll be great at that. But before you go solve that case would you be able to help me out with something?"

"Why can't Guster help you?" If Spencer was making another one of those prank calls, Lassiter would have his head.

"Gus is at a convention in San Francisco," Lassiter could hear the psychic's eyes rolling as he said it. "Anyways, I kind of got myself stuck at this warehouse and I'm pretty sure that I have a concussion."

Lassiter remembered what the department's therapist had recommended and slowly counted to ten before speaking. "If you have a concussion, why did you call me?"

"Well, you know, you're practically 911." Shawn said, his words slurring slightly. "Plus, I couldn't remember the number."

"Do you remember what warehouse you're at?" Lassiter didn't exactly want to go along with Spencer's shenanigans, but if Spencer were really in trouble and O'Hara came back on Monday to find her boyfriend was dead he would never hear the end of it.

There was a pause and then Shawn giggled into the phone. "Sorry, I just realized you couldn't see me nodding. I'm at the refrigerator place by Palmer street." He sighed. "Can you bring a jacket with you? It's getting kind of cold."

There was silence and Lassiter realized that Spencer had hung up on him. He swore and turned on his sirens. He almost went back to get McNab, but there was still a small part of him that considered the fact Shawn could be drunk and sitting in the Psych office laughing his ass off.

OoO OoO OoO

The warehouse at Palmer street was silent as the grave when Lassiter got there. He slowly got out of the car and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, the company who manufactured the trucks for the warehouse had gone out of business taking the shipping business with it. That meant the building had been abandoned for almost three years now.

Lassiter shivered as the wind picked up and groaned out loud when he realized his jacket was still on the back of his desk chair. He'd been so worried with getting out of the station before McNab noticed that he'd forgotten it. He was about to get back in his car when he saw Spencer's bike propped up against the wall near an open door.

He walked through the door and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was hardly anything left in the building. Just a couple of smaller trucks and a few crates here and there.

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted. "Spencer, damn it, where are you?" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the psychic's number.

He could hear the faint sound of the Dragnet theme from the other side of the room. Lassiter started walking towards the phone, but when Spencer's phone kicked over to voicemail he broke into a jog. He came around a stack of crates and saw Spencer's phone lying on the floor, he bent down to pick it up and suddenly everything went black.

OoO OoO OoO

"Lassie, Lassie!"

Lassiter came to with someone kicking him in the legs and shouting his name.

"I'm up!" He snapped, to get the kicking to stop. He opened his eyes, or at least he thought he did. "Why is it dark?"

"There aren't any lights on." That was Spencer's voice. At least Lassiter hoped it was.

"What happened?" Lassiter tried to raised a hand to his head to check for blood, but found his arm wouldn't budge.

"Stop pulling on my arm!" Shawn protested.

Lassiter took a deep breath and then reached with his free hand to touch his wrist. He felt the cool metal of handcuffs attaching his right arm to Spencer's left.

"Spencer," Lassiter was trying to remain calm.

"Yes, Lassie?"

"Why are we handcuffed together and in a dark, contained, smelly place?" Lassiter wrinkled his nose as he realized the stale stench that was wafting around them.

"Well," Shawn seemed to have to consider this. "There's three possibilities. The first being that you and I were abducted by aliens. The second being that we've been cast in the latest installment of the Saw movies,"

"Sweet Justice," Lassiter muttered, Spencer's concussion was making him more ridiculous than usual.

"But the third is more probable, and that would be because I found a murderer's hideout and he smacked me on the back of the head. Then I ran and hid and called you, but then he found me and put me in here and then you showed up and he put you in here too."

"You found a what?" Lassiter wasn't sure if it was the dark or the stench that was making it hard to concentrate.

"You know that girl who went missing in Sacramento last year?" Shawn asked. "The one who was from New Jersey and was here on vacation."

Lassiter remembered the case, it had been a six month search for the girl's body followed by a three month search for her killer. All the tips had been dead ends and the family had gone home without closure.

"Well," Shawn continued. "The guy who did it, he was skulking around here." Shawn laughed. "That's a fun word, skulking."

"You found Morgan Greene's killer?" Lassiter asked, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yup," Shawn said proudly. "I found him and he's crazy as a loon." Shawn elongated the O's in loon.

"Spencer," Lassiter cut him off.

"Hang on, I wasn't done with my story!" Shawn protested.

"Spencer," Lassiter said more firmly. "When did you get hit over the head?"

"I told you," Shawn was indignant. "When I got here, about three hours before you got here."

"And how long have I been here?"

"According to the glowy hands on your watch, two hours." Shawn went quiet for a moment. "Hey, Lassie, did you bring me my jacket? Cause I'm cold."

At first Lassiter thought Spencer was cold because of his head injury, but then the detective realized that he was cold as well. They had to be in one of the refrigerated trucks. That gave them even less time to get out.

Lassiter shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. "Spencer,"

"Yes, Lassie?"

"Did your dad ever teach you how to escape a truck?"

"Nope," Shawn said sadly. "Though we did know one thing."

"What?" Lassiter said, distractedly as he hauled Spencer to his feet. They needed to know what kind of space they were dealing with.

"The light does not stay on in a refrigerator truck when the door is shut." Shawn snickered as he let Lassiter lead him down the truck to the door end.

Lassiter ignored the pun and started feeling his way down the wall of the truck. Hoping there was nothing slimy his hand would come into contact with.

"What about your phone?" Shawn asked as they reached the end of the truck.

Lassiter felt in his pockets for his phone, but that only confirmed what he had assumed. There was no phone.

He could feel Spencer shivering next to him. The psychic was wearing short sleeves and Lassiter knew they wouldn't have much time.

Lassiter started to feel his way around the rest of the truck, when a sudden lurch threw both men to the floor.

"It's an earthquake," Shawn decided, trying to steady himself.

"No," Lassiter's heart sank. "We're being driven somewhere."


	2. Chapter 2

"Why are we moving?" Shawn sounded confused as Lassiter continued to inch his way around the truck.

"I don't know, but I'd rather be prepared when the door does open." Lassiter was feeling out of his depth without the familiar weight of his glock hanging from his holster.

"Why didn't you bring me a jacket?" Shawn was as close to Lassiter as he could get to try and stay warm.

"Because I didn't think we'd be stuck in a refrigerator truck." Lassiter snapped. He knew that Spencer needed to be talking to keep from sleeping, but the incessant questions were starting to get on the detective's nerves.

"I told you I was in trouble,"

"You've told me a lot of things," Lassiter reminded him. "You've called my phone playing practical jokes every other weekend for the past two years."

"Well that's different," Shawn protested. "Those times I was laughing when I called you."

"You giggled over the phone," Lassiter said coldly. "Now shut it, I'm trying to focus."

The truck made a sharp turn and Lassiter found himself being thrown against the side of the truck as he lost his balance, bringing Shawn down with him.

"Damn it," he hissed as he stood, trying to find his balance in the moving truck. His cheek was stinging, he probably had a cut.

"Lassie, I really don't feel good," Shawn said, moments before he pulled Lassiter over to a corner of the truck and hurled.

Lassiter couldn't see it happen, but the retching noise followed by a groan from Spencer was enough to confirm his suspicions.

"At least we know that's not an exit," Shawn joked as Lassiter lead them away from the vomit. It was going to smell horrible in a few minutes.

Lassiter tried to remember what the outside of the truck had looked like. He wasn't sure if he was remembering that there was a side exit, or if he was just wishing there was.

He almost laughed out loud when he felt a seam in the truck's wall. There was a door there, but Lassiter wasn't sure if he would be able to open it from the inside.

"Spencer, help me figure this thing out," he yanked on the handcuffs to get the psychic's attention. Shawn didn't respond and Lassiter yanked on the cuffs again. "Spencer," he snapped.

"Right," Shawn took a shaky breath. "There's a latch at the top I think, if this is a truck made prior to 1998."

"How the hell do you know that?" Lassiter was still feeling around for anything that could be used to open the door.

"Nevermind, I was making that up anyway," Shawn laughed, "I saw one when I was scoping out the trucks earlier. I think this guy probably used one to move Morgan Greene's body."

"Spencer, there were three trucks in the warehouse." Lassiter pointed out, grunting in effort as he tried in vain to reach the top of the truck.

"Well, then I hope our guy was nice enough to pick the easy to escape one." Shawn grumbled. "Stop jerking the cuffs, you're chaffing my wrist." He pulled against Lassiter.

"If you would help, then we could get out of these cuffs faster." Lassiter snapped back. "C'mon, I'll hoist you up and you can reach the latch."

"This isn't going to work," Shawn told him as he felt Lassiter crouch down. "My hand will have to stay as low as yours."

"It'll give us the extra foot we need," Lassiter assured him.

"Sure," Shawn muttered, "and then we'll jump handcuffed out of a moving truck and die artfully like paintings as our bodies bounce along the highway."

"Just climb up there," Lassiter snapped again.

Shawn gave a deep sigh of frustration and then put his free hand on Lassiter's shoulders and put his foot into the detective's cupped hands. "Go ahead and lift," he told the detective.

It would have been unsteady even if Shawn had been able to use both of his hands. He wasn't feeling well and what little was left in his stomach was threatening to come back up. He couldn't throw up on Lassiter, the man would be pissed.

"Just a little bit more," Shawn called down. He could brush a latch with his fingertips but he couldn't quite reach it.

As Lassiter tried to lift the psychic more, Shawn suddenly felt himself slipping and even though he couldn't see in the pitch black he had a feeling his world was turning upside down.

Lassiter couldn't catch the younger man, he felt his arm being twisted in the cuffs and then Spencer fell on top of him. His head connected with the floor of the truck and he heard a yelp of pain from Spencer.

Then the world went black again.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

It was harder for Lassiter to come out of the fog this time. He knew it was because he'd already been out once. He tried to piece together his thoughts. He remembered trying to find a way out and then Spencer fell...

Spencer, Lassiter's heart started beating faster as he felt for the psychic using his free hand.

"Spencer?" He called out when his hand felt the other man's shirt. Lassiter's voice was hoarse; how long had he been out? "Damn it, Spencer, O'Hara will kill me if we don't make it out of this alive."

"I'm here," Shawn whispered, "I think,"

"What happened?" Lassiter asked, sitting up. He put his free hand down to steady himself and accidentally jerked on the cuffs.

"Ow! Not that, Lassie!" Shawn hissed in pain as Lassiter pulled on the cuffs. "I think my arm is broken,"

"Broken, that's not good," Lassiter stated, trying to shake the fog from his head, the cold becoming slightly unbearable and Spencer injured there wasn't a lot of time.

"No shit, Sherlock," Spencer's usual joviality missing. He shifted, trying to alleviate the pain and only made it worse.

"How bad is it?" Lassiter couldn't see a thing in the pitch black of the truck.

"Pretty bad," the smirk in Shawn's voice was back, but Lassiter could also hear the desperation. "Plus, it's my most important arm. I'll have to give up all hope of even playing professional handball."

"You don't play handball at all," Lassiter wasn't going to think about the nitty gritty of the medical stuff. The best he could hope to do in the car is stabilize his arm, but Lassiter wasn't exactly carrying around a spare splint.

"I could though, if I weren't so concerned about my modeling career," Shawn defended himself.

"Can you cut it out with the wisecracks?" Lassiter snapped, "we are going to die in this God forsaken vehicle if we don't find a way out soon. I'm not sure what we'll die of first, lack of air or from the cold." As if to drive his point home, a blast of air blew from the freezer at the front of the truck. Lassiter could feel the temperature dropping.

"Well, you'd better come up with some ideas," Shawn's teeth were chattering at this point. "Because I'm not wearing a GPS watch."

"Why don't you come up with some ideas?" Lassiter snapped. "Why do I have to save us?"

"Because, I'm hurt," Lassiter could feel the glare from Shawn even in the dark. "And because it's your job to save people, Lassie."

"Which is what I should be doing right now and you should be at your hole in the wall of a mess you call an office. We shouldn't even be here." Lassiter sat back, trying not to jostle Spencer's arm.

"No more escape plans that involve me climbing, okay?" Shawn let his head rest against the side of the truck.

"You can't sleep," Lassiter growled.

"Why not? I'm tired and there's nothing to do." Shawn bit back a wince as the truck hit a pothole.

"You have a concussion, probably a severe one."

"If I can't sleep then I'm going to have to talk," Shawn told him.

Lassiter gave a long suffering sigh, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Jules," Shawn decided after thinking for a minute. "She's really pretty," he said sadly. "I'm never gonna get to see that beautiful face cartilage again. She just bought this really pretty blue dress too. She looks amazing in it, her legs-"

"Change the topic, Spencer, I'm not talking about my partner's attributes." Lassiter said through gritted teeth.

"Hey, Lassie, remember that time you thought your condo was haunted and then it turned out you were being drugged by a crazy lady and you chased Gus around with your sword?" Shawn said after another lull. "That case was really crazy, and you never reimbursed us for the snacks we bought for your sleepover."

"I took the money and used it to pay for the carpet cleaning I needed after you and Guster ground cheetos into it."

Shawn gave a snort of disbelief, "Gus and I would never waste cheetos. That orange dust was probably part of your crazy shenanigans."

"Hey, Spencer, remember that time that you investigated a crime and got yourself shot and everyone else had to run around trying to save your ass?"

"Yes, I do, I still have the scar. It's pretty manly looking," Lassiter could hear the smile in Shawn's voice.

"Would it kill you to see the darker side of things for once?" Lassiter was already getting tired of talking.

Spencer didn't answer and Lassiter was about to ask his question again when he realized why the other man had gone quiet. They weren't moving any more.

"He's probably going to kill us," Shawn whispered.

"We've been driving for almost an hour," Lassiter was guessing, unless he had been out for a lot longer after Shawn's fall. "We could be halfway to Sacramento by now."

"Maybe he stopped for a slurpee," Shawn mumbled, his eyelids were feeling very heavy.

"Something tells me he isn't the kind of guy who drinks slurpees," Lassiter felt Shawn's head slump over on his shoulder. "No! You're not falling asleep on me, Spencer!"

The yelling made Shawn jump and then he hissed in pain as his arm was jostled. "What the heck, Lassie?" He said through gritted teeth, "you can't do that to me."

"You can't sleep," Lassiter told him, feeling a little bad about the psychic's pain. "We need to keep alert and awake."

"Then you're gonna have to entertain me, Lassie, I don't do so well at this whole being vigilant thing."

"You would have made a horrible cop," Lassiter complained.

"I said entertain me, not berate me using my dad's lectures from high school," Shawn told him. "I think I would have done pretty well, but I am a free spirit Lassie, I can't be working for the man." He sat there for a second. "Lassie, what if we tried securing my arm and then we tried getting out of here?"

"I can't secure your arm," Lassiter had already thought about it. "I could use my tie, but then my arm would be tied to you and two one handed people wouldn't do anyone any good."

"It might make my arm hurt a little less," Shawn said through gritted teeth as he reached with his good arm to feel for Lassiter's tie.

"That's not my tie!" Lassiter brushed Shawn's searching hand away and pulled the tie off himself. "Spencer, I don't know if I can do this in the dark. Especially not with one hand."

"I'll be your other hand," Shawn assured him. "Just tie my arm!" He was getting frustrated.

Lassiter had to twist his hand in the cuffs to be able to use his hands to move Spencer's useless arm. Shawn was whimpering by the time he got the arm situated where he thought it would be the most stable. Lassiter's own cuffed hand was going to be tied somewhere near the psychic's ribs. If Morgan Greene's killer decided to come into the truck then, they were both doomed.

"Hold this end of the tie," Lassiter told Shawn, his voice muffled from holding the other end in his mouth.

Shawn didn't respond, but grabbed the makeshift bandage. He felt like he was going to vomit again. The pain in his arm was making his woozy.

Lassiter took the tie from his mouth and then started to pull it tight. "On the count of three we're going to pull. One, two, three," he yanked and at that exact moment Shawn finally couldn't fight the urge anymore. He turned his head and retched up what little was left in his stomach.

Without the counterbalance of Shawn's weight, Lassiter had over pulled and succeeded in hitting himself in the face. He fell backwards, the cut from earlier stinging and Lassiter knew he would have a world record bruise there for the next few days.

"Son of a-" he snapped as he hit the floor of the truck. He knew he had pulled on Spencer's arm. "Spencer, are you alright?"

"Lassie," Shawn's voice was almost non-existent. "Please don't do that again. That hurts like the dickens." He was trying to lighten the mood, but his arm felt like it was on fire.

"We need a new plan," Lassiter told him.

"Break my thumb," Shawn said immediately. "My arm is already broken, break my thumb. Then you can get the door open or at least fight the guy when he comes to kill us."

"I'm not going to break your thumb, Spencer,"

"Just break it!" Shawn's voice was back. "We can sit here and argue, or we can get out of here. Break my thumb, Lassie."

Lassiter used the tie to dab at his cheek. "We'll get out of here, with both of your thumbs intact, don't worry."

"I'll tell Jules it was my idea, you won't get in trouble for it." Shawn assured him.

"I'm not worried about O'Hara," Lassiter snapped. "I'm more concerned with you whining about it once I do break it." His reason was harsh, but his voice was gentler than it had been before.

"Lassie," Shawn wasn't going to argue with him, it hurt too much to argue. "What time is it?"

Lassiter glanced at his watch, "it's almost four." He briefly wondered if anyone at the station had noticed his absence.

"Jules is giving her lecture right now," Shawn said softly.

Lassiter nodded, even though he knew Spencer couldn't see him. He was starting to get tired and talking was a lot of effort. Silence settled in the truck, except for the blowing of the fan.

"Lassie," Shawn's voice was tired sounding, too. But there was also a note of sadness. "Can you promise me something?"

"What?" Lassiter was wary.

"Can you take care of Jules when you get out of this?" Shawn's voice cracked. "Take care of her, make sure she eats. She'll be heartbroken when I'm gone."

"Spencer, you aren't going to die in here." Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"But what if I do? Death is unfair, Lassie, especially to men with great hair." A choked sob came out of Shawn. "Also, when you tell everyone this story, can you leave out the part where I cried. Because that isn't very manly at all."

"Stop blubbering, you aren't going to die!" Lassiter snapped. "We're going to get out of this alive and you'll have a cast that you can draw all sorts of stupid things on."

"Can it be orange?" Shawn's voice was small and for a minute he sounded like the five year-old he was acting like.

"It can be rainbow if you want," Lassiter said, exasperatedly. "I'll promise you one thing, and one thing only, Spencer. I am going to get you out of this alive."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry for not getting this up sooner. I moved, graduated and had my hard drive die all within three weeks. Here's the end of this story, but I definitely have thoughts for a sequel.

OoOOoOOoO

OoOOoOOoO

OoOOoOOoO

Lassiter wasn't sure how long they had been sitting there. He was getting tired of just sitting, but he knew he couldn't move. Not with Spencer's arm as messed up as it was. He had never heard the psychic this quiet. It was almost as if Lassiter was in the truck by himself. ****

Every once in awhile Lassiter would ask him a question, just to make sure Spencer was still alive. He would respond with a grunt or occasionally it was a yes or no, but rarely more than two words. Lassiter knew he should wake Spencer up, the extreme cold combined with the probable concussions they both had was a lethal combination. But his brain was telling him that was too much work. His arms felt very heavy and sleep sounded like the best plan of action. Maybe it would be warm when he woke up. Lassiter felt his eyelids droop and he shook himself awake. ****

**"**Spencer, do you think we could try walking around the truck? Get our blood moving," Lassiter's teeth chattered as he shoved the hand that wasn't handcuffed to Spencer up under his armpit, trying to keep his fingers warm.****

**"**I don't think that would be a good idea," Shawn replied, his teeth clacking together as well. "Let's just think about warm places, like hugs from Gus and the beach in Mexico." His head slumped over and Lassiter felt it rest against his shoulder.****

The truck hadn't moved again. It was still parked wherever Morgan Greene's killer had left it. Probably in some remote part of the California wilderness. That's where Lassiter would have parked it if he were a serial killer trying to get rid of two bodies.****

He let out a sigh and leaned his head back against the side of the truck. He closed his eyes again, promising himself he wouldn't let himself fall asleep.****

**"**I'm hungry," Spencer spoke up, his voice sounding tired. "Do you have any ding-dongs?"****

**"**What? No, Spencer, those are disgusting," Lassiter wrinkled his nose.****

**"**Not the kind with coconut and marshmallow around them," Shawn protested.****

**"**Those are snowballs, which are delicious and completely different," Lassiter snapped. That seemed to end the argument and silence fell over the two men again. ****

**"**Lassie," after five minutes Shawn spoke again, his breathing not as even as Lassiter would have liked to hear. "You said delicious."****

**"**It's a common adjective. I can say delicious if I want,"****

Shawn sighed, "Gus was always the one who knew about grammar." His voice caught, "I didn't say good-bye to Gus this morning when he left for his conference. I'm a terrible friend."****

**"**You'll get to see Guster when he gets back, now stop crying," Lassiter snapped.**  
><strong>Shawn gave a small hiccup as he tried to control his breathing, "Lassifrass, did you ever think you'd go out like this?"****

**"**No," Lassiter said flatly, "I figured I would have gotten shot. There are a lot of people out there who want to shoot me."****

**"**I figured I would have been shot too," Shawn yawned, wincing as he shifted his arm accidentally.****

**"**You were shot," Lassiter reminded him.****

Shawn heard something in Lassiter's tone that made him realize something, "Lassie, are you jealous that I got shot?"****

**"**What? That's ridiculous, Spencer," Lassiter responded quickly. A little too quickly in Shawn's opinion.****

**"**You are!" Shawn actually gave a small laugh.****

**"**Spencer, I am not jealous you got shot." Lassiter snapped.****

**"**You totally are," Shawn's voice was smug. "Let me tell you, Lassifrass, it isn't all it's cracked up to be. It hurts a lot and even though the scar is manly, people give you funny looks at the pool."****

**"**Why would I be jealous of a stupid thing like that?" Lassiter was going to throttle Spencer if the younger man didn't shut up soon. He never got the chance to see if that would have happened, because the next sound they heard was the bolt being thrown on the door at the rear of the truck. ****

Both men looked toward the sound, even though it was still pitch black and they couldn't see anything.****

**"**Zombies," Shawn whispered, trying to make himself as small as possible behind Lassiter.****

Lassiter stood, knowing he wasn't going to be facing zombies, but probably was going to be facing a serial killer. He knew Spencer was in pain, but standing gave him a tiny bit of leverage. He honestly would feel a lot better about the whole thing if he had an actual weapon on him; not Spencer and the frozen vomit on the other side of the truck.****

If Spencer's arm hurt him as the two men stood, he didn't let on except for a small whimper. The door slowly opened and Lassiter was blinded in the sudden brightness. Reflexively he put up a hand to shield his eyes. If Morgan Greene's killer was going to shoot them, then he had better do it now.****

**"**We know what you did! You and your lust for brains!" Shawn yelled, blinking in the sunshine.****

**"**Spencer, don't goad him," Lassiter hissed, still blinking against the light.****

**"**Detective Lassiter?" Buzz McNab's confused and relieved voice met Lassiter's ears instead of a gunshot.****

**"**McNab?" Lassiter lowered his hand. He could make out the rookie's tall figure, it was a shadow against the sunlight streaming in. From the looks of it, the sun was setting outside.****

**"**Oh man, am I glad to see you guys," McNab came further into the truck. "The chief has been going out of her mind trying to find you and-"****

**"**McNab," Lassiter cut him off, "Spencer needs medical attention and we need to find the psychopath who left us in here." He was supporting most of the other man's weight and he could feel him starting to go limp.****

McNab rushed over and helped Lassiter half carry Shawn out of the truck. Then he got on the radio in his cruiser to call for an ambulance.****

As they waited for the EMTs, Lassiter leaned against McNab's car. The rookie was supporting Spencer, to make sure the psychic didn't fall over. They'd gotten the cuffs unlocked and Lassiter was trying to rub away the mark on his wrist.****

After ten minutes the ambulance arrived, Spencer let himself be poked and prodded and taken care of by the EMTs that had swarmed around him, Lassiter tried to get the one EMT, who was dabbing at the cut on his cheek and shining lights in his eyes, to leave him alone.****

**"**Detective, we need to check for a concussion," the EMT protested.****

**"**I have one, believe me, I've had enough to know," Lassiter snapped. "I'll be fine." He finally shoved the EMT away and then turned his attention to McNab.****

**"**How did you find us?" Lassiter asked the rookie, who was jotting down notes for his report later.****

**"**The chief had us all out on patrol after your car was found at the abandoned warehouse," McNab told him. "I was driving by and saw the truck, parked illegally, and then I heard you two arguing on the inside."****

**"**We weren't arguing," Lassiter snapped, "it's just a frustrating environment in there."****

**"**Right," McNab nodded knowingly, "you were exclaiming."****

**"**The bastard got away didn't he?" Lassiter changed the subject.****

McNab bit his lip, "there was no one here," he admitted. "If we can get a description from Shawn then we can move forward with a man hunt..." he trailed off.****

**"**But he's avoided arrest for this long, he'll be hard to catch," Lassiter finished the unsaid portion of McNab's thoughts.****

**"**I'll go make sure the CSI techs are being thorough," McNab muttered and headed for the truck.****

Lassiter made his way over to the ambulance. The EMTs were still poking and prodding at Spencer. Why hadn't they gone to the hospital yet? The psychic was as white as the sheet covered gurney he was sitting on.****

**"**Shouldn't you get him in for X-rays?" Lassiter snapped.**  
><strong>**  
><strong>**"**Lassie," Shawn broke into a grin and then closed his eyes and bit back a wince. "Please be careful," he whispered as the EMTs put his arm in a temporary splint.****

**"**We're just heading to the hospital now," the head EMT assured Lassiter, not backing down at the head detective's glare.****

**"**No, no, we need to catch the guy!" Shawn protested, his voice stronger.****

**"**I will catch the bastard, you are going to the hospital."****

**"**Why aren't you going to the hospital?" Shawn frowned.****

**"**I'm not hurt," Lassiter crossed his arms, gritting his teeth as he jostled a newly forming bruise.****

**"**I fell on you, Lassie, and I'm not saying I'm fat, but I'm not a 10 year old girl either," Shawn was now glaring at him.****

**"**I'll be fine once I catch this murdering scum."****

**"**You need my help!" Shawn continued to protest, getting agitated.****

**"**I swear I will have them inject you with enough tranquilizer to down a baby rhino if you don't stop squirming," Lassiter snapped, earning himself a concerned look from all the EMTs. He sighed, "I don't need O'Hara coming back to a dead boyfriend; one with a broken arm is bad enough."****

It was a testament to how loopy Shawn was that he didn't argue more. "Just look for a guy with a red plaid shirt and blonde hair." He winced as the EMT lowered the gurney he was on. "Catch him, Lassifrass."****

Once Lassiter was sure Spencer was on his way to the hospital he made his way back to McNab. The rookie was standing by his car, on the phone with someone. Probably his wife, Lassiter thought.****

**"**McNab, you're with me," he snapped out.****

McNab pulled the phone away from his ear, "Sir, the chief wants to talk with you." He offered the phone out to Lassiter.****

Lassiter tried very hard to sound civil over the phone. "Yes, Chief," he tried to sound as if he hadn't been locked in a refrigerator truck for the better part of seven hours.****

**"**Carlton," the chief's tone was soft and she was using his first name.****

**"**Chief, I'm losing time to catch this guy," Lassiter didn't let her continue. "I've got McNab and we'll get him."****

**"**You have no leads, a probable concussion and a psychic with a broken arm," Vick cut him off just as sharply. "At least come back to the station to work through some of the facts. We have no idea where this guy could be."****

**"**But, chief-"****

**"**No buts, detective, I'm not going to allow you to hurt yourself further. You're running on adrenaline and whatever you let the EMTs inject you with. Go to the hospital or come back to the station.."****

There was a click on the line and Lassiter was outright scowling as he handed McNab's phone back to him.****

**"**We're going to the station?" McNab asked softly, giving the head detective a hopeful look.****

**"**Eventually," Lassiter snapped. "Give me the keys," he held out his hand.****

**"**You shouldn't drive with a concussion," McNab's grasp tightened around his keys, more scared to let Lassiter drive than to stand up to him.****

**"**Then you drive and I'll tell you where to go," Lassiter scowled at the rookie. He could feel the throbbing at the base of his skull returning. "Now where the hell if your car?" He turned to look for the rookie's cruiser and felt the world turn upside down.****

OoOOoOOoOOoO****

The first thing Lassiter noticed as he woke up, was that he was warm. He was warm and laying on something soft. He tried opening his eyes, which was only partially successful. He cracked them open and squinted against the harsh glare from the overhead fluorescent lights. Lassiter took a deep breath to attempt to sit up and winced as his chest protested. He closed his eyes again and just laid there, wondering where the hell he was. Wherever it was, they had a drop ceiling. That ruled out his condo, which was a possibility he'd considered. Maybe the whole refrigerator truck incident had been a dream.****

He opened his eyes again and looked down at himself. There was a scratchy white blanket draped over him. He groaned when he saw the IV taped firmly into the back of his hand; the hospital. Now that he knew where he was, he became aware of the sounds around him. The ambient sound of a heart monitor filled his ears and he could hear the faint static of the PA system as it summoned doctors to various places in the hospital.****

Lassiter moved his other hand to pull back his blankets. He needed to get out of this sterile hell hole as soon as possible. He paused when his hand touched something covered in crinkly plastic. He twisted his head to see what it was and frowned when he saw a package of ding-dongs.****

**"**They were out of snowballs," Spencer's voice came from the other side of the room.****

Lassiter turned his head to the side and saw the psychic, sitting in a wheelchair, his arm in a cast and sling. Lassiter couldn't help but notice the cast was orange.****

**"**What happened?" Lassiter tried to sort it out in his head, but he couldn't remember anything after arguing with the chief on the phone.****

**"**I think you fainted," Shawn shrugged, wincing. "They took me here and after I got out of surgery they said you'd been brought here too."****

**"**I don't faint," Lassiter objected.****

**"**Fine, you must have passed out in a manly fashion. In no way did your knees give way causing you to fall to the ground." Shawn clarified.****

**"**How long have I been out," Lassiter was trying to summon the strength to get out of bed, but his entire body was refusing to even move.****

**"**It's Sunday morning, so about thirty-six hours," Shawn told him.****

Thirty-six hours? How had Lassiter been out for almost two days? He frowned, "What about the guy? Did we get him?"****

Shawn let out a sigh and shook his head, "McNab said they haven't been able to get any leads on the truck, the warehouse, or the description I gave them."****

**"**Son of a-" Lassiter groaned, letting his head drop back against the pillow. "We were so close."****

Shawn nodded, "we'll get him."****

Silence fell over the two of them, the steady beep of the heart monitor was the only noise in the room. Lassiter looked over to see Spencer trying to text with one hand. ****

**"**Spencer," ****

Shawn looked up at him.****

**"**You know that I hate ding-dongs, right?" ****

**"**I've heard it both ways," Shawn went back to texting. "I'm sorry I fell on you, and cried on you, and that I couldn't hold on to your tie and you ended up punching yourself in the nose because of it." He said, not looking up at the detective.****

**"**You also almost threw up on me, and you tried use me as a human shield when you thought zombies were coming for us," Lassiter added.****

**"**I had a concussion, remember," Shawn pointed to his head.****

Before Lassiter could respond, the door opened and O'Hara came through. ****

**"**Carlton!" She was by his bedside in a flash, trying to hug him which ended up being extremely awkward considering all the tubes he was hooked up to, not to mention the hospital gown.****

**"**O'Hara, I'm fine," he protested pushing her away. ****

She gave him a concerned look, "I got back as soon as I could. The chief called me," she explained. "Then you were unconscious and I was so worried."  
><strong><br>****"**I'll be fine," Lassiter reiterated. ****

**"**Yeah, I mean, what's a couple of bruised ribs, a concussion and various scrapes and bruises to old Lassidoodle," Shawn reasoned. "Now, since you're both here, you need to sign my cast." He produced a handful of various colored markers. "I tried forging your well wishes, Lassie, but writing on your own cast is harder than it looks, plus I couldn't decide if you would put 'Don't be stupid, Spencer' or 'Get well soon, sorry for doubting you',"****

Lassiter chewed on his lip for a moment. "I did doubt you," he admitted.****

**"**And I was right and there was a serial killer and not the kind who doesn't like Cheerios," Shawn added.****

**"**Right," Lassiter tried to quell the irritation that was coming back with every word Spencer spoke.****

**"**Just promise me something, Lassie," Shawn looked up at him, his face as serious as Lassiter had ever seen him be. "Promise me we'll catch him." He unconsciously grabbed for Juliet's hand with his good one.****

**"**I promise you that we'll catch him," Lassiter said emphatically. "Now go get me some snowballs," he grabbed the ding-dongs from his lap and chucked them at Spencer's head.****

Shawn managed to avoid getting hit, but he gave a small grin. "C'mon, Jules, we'll let cranky pants Lassie sleep."****

Juliet gave Carlton a relieved look. "Sleep tight, partner, I'm just glad you both are okay."****

Lassiter gave a grunt of thanks and prepared himself for the onslaught of doctors that would be coming to poke and prod at him.****

Juliet pushed Shawn towards the door, when they were almost through, Spencer twisted in his wheelchair to look at Lassiter.****

**"**Lassie, we'll catch him right?"****

**"**Didn't I promise you that I'd get you out alive?" Lassiter scowled. ****

Shawn nodded. ****

**"**Then we'll catch him, because I'm a man of my word."


End file.
